


all the king's men

by Anonymous



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: #caprimonth, Drugged Sex, Gangbang, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, day 12: deceit, impaired consent due to drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Prince’s Guard pledged to serve their Prince, in any way deemed necessary.





	all the king's men

The Prince’s Guard bursts into the room to the sight of overturned furniture, dead men in a pool of blood, and in the center of it, their Prince hunched over, shaking. They announce their arrival, and Laurent turns towards them. He is sweating, his cheeks pinked, eyes glazed over—he looks like a dream. The men are stunned. They’ve never seen their Prince like this, red-faced and panting.

Any inappropriate thoughts are banished immediately as Jord steps closer. It’s no longer safe in the Prince’s quarters, and they must leave before more killers arrive. He puts a hand on Laurent’s shoulder, and freezes up when Laurent leans into his touch.

Jord shakes away any perverse thoughts that came creeping, attributing it to a manifestation of his own dark desire, something he had hidden away, longing for his Prince always from afar.

Orlant comes up on the other side to assist him, and together they support their Prince out of the room, through the darkened corridor where two more collapsed guards lay on the ground. There is a set of adjoining quarters near the Prince’s rooms, to entertain any pets, not that the Prince has ever put it to use. But the rooms are hidden away, and safe.

The Prince is breathing harder now, almost shaking in their arms.

Huet is following them close, taking up the rear, his eyes on alert for any other attackers lurking in the shadows. But his eyes drift, and he can’t help but notice their Prince straining in his tight trousers. He averts his gaze, but his eyes keep flickering down Laurent’s body, drawn in like a beacon. In his hand is the a goblet that had been discarded on the floor in the Prince’s rooms, and he peers within. Frowning, Huet shows it to the others. They know of the pink powder.

“He’s been drugged,” Orlant grunts as they assist the Prince onto the bed. He falls into the soft silk sheets with a soft moan, a sound that had them all look ashamed at their immediate arousal. How can any man resist when the ice cold Prince of Vere whimpers beneath his touch? The guilt comes all the same.

“I’ll kill them,” Jord seethes, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. He is ready to storm the Regent’s guard and fight for their Prince’s honor.

Huet grabs Jord’s arm, preventing him from turning. "They're already dead. We need to help the Prince now." His words make all of them gaze at Laurent still on the bed, writhing slowly, straining for someone’s touch now that they had moved away from him.

"How do we help?" Jord asks, even though he knows. They all know. The drug has only one purpose, and they are already in a bedroom.

Orlant is the first to move. He sits at the edge of the bed, and sets his hand on the smooth leather of Laurent's polished boot. Through the leather, he can feel the heat radiating from Laurent’s body. He strokes upward, daring himself to slide his fingers over the soft silk trousers that cost more than his year’s salary. 

Orlant’s touch seems to calm Laurent slightly, but he is still breathing heavily, resounding all over the room. There is a stillness in the air, and they are at the tipping point. The next person to make a move would decide where the night went.

A small traitorous voice in the back of his head reminds Orlant that Jord could very much cut off his hand for this.

"Orlant…" The warning tone in Jord's voice echoes Orlant’s fears, but before he could remove himself, Huet interrupts.

"The Prince wants our touch. Look," Huet sits down on the bed and presses the back of his hand to Laurent’s flushed cheek. His skin is warm to the touch, and Huet resists cradling his face. He doesn’t dare caress the Prince’s soft skin with his sword-calloused palms.

As if obeying their words, Laurent leans into the large hand touching his cheek. He speaks, and his words are less affectionate than the action. He asks, with a voice that sounds distant, “What are you doing?”

“You look very flushed, your highness. Are you feeling warm?” Jord deflects, scrambling for time. He is torn. He is lying if he denies ever have deeply inappropriate feelings for his Prince. And his entire time in his service has been a lesson in suppression and loyalty because he knows better than to chase these fantasies. But now the Prince is here, laying on the bed, flushed and delirious and in need of a good fuck.

They are the Prince’s Guard. They live and breathe to serve the Prince, and would do anything for him. Even if it does not seem to be what the Prince wants, but this is still what the Prince needs. If he doesn’t get his release, the drug will break his body and spirit in an endless longing for the pleasure that would never come.

Jord succumbs to the carnal drive moving his legs to the bed, and he falls between Orlant and Huet. His hands tremble as he brings them to the laces at Laurent’s neck. "Your highness, you're too warm.  We just want to help you."

"Don't touch me," Laurent says lowly, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. His hands are free to push him away, but they don’t bat away Jord's fingers as he slowly begins to undo the laces, every eyelet revealing more tantalizing skin.

Jord’s heart is leaping out of chest. He is doing something so wrong, so inappropriate for a man of his station. But how envious he had been when Damen was brought to the baths. He was ordered to wait outside the doors knowing that the Prince was allowing an Akielon slave to undo his laces and strip him of his clothing. The Prince had allowed an Akielon to wash him, this could be nothing worse.

Orlant, emboldened by Jord's audaciousness, begins to pull off the Prince’s boots. He feels the urge to worship at Laurent’s feet and press soft kisses to the skin there, like a pet, moving higher and higher, caressing his calves and relishing the touch.

Laurent begins to pull away as his men touch him and tug off his clothes. Huet, helpfully, holds him down. He doesn’t want the Prince to hurt himself.

"Stop," Laurent says, but they can all see the Prince still straining in his trousers, his breath still coming in quick. His eyes are unfocused.

"This is to help you, your highness." Jord makes quick work of Laurent's brocaded jacket with Huet helping, and he takes in a breath when the jacket is pulled off, leaving a soft silk blouse that hangs loose on his body. The Prince's chest is rising, and falling, and Jord is emblazoned by the sight. Laurent's yellow hair is messed up, spread across the pillow, cascading locks of gold on silk sheets. Jord pushes the thin white shirt up and over the shoulders, exposing his chest, and the shirt tangles still laced at th wrists, the fabric trapping Laurent's hands up above his head.

Laurent tries to struggle, but his hands are tied. He shudders at the sudden cold air against his feverish skin, and yet his body bucks up when Jord drags his fingers over his perked nipples. He whimpers at the touch.

Huet shifts closer too, leaning down to caress the newly exposed skin. Every touch makes Laurent shake and squirm.

"This is treason," Laurent warns, and if he’s trying to sound harsh, his voice doesn’t come out that way. He lets out a soft moan when Orlant undoes the laces on his trousers, fingers pressing up against Laurent's stiff cock, giving him the teasing touch that the drug wants him to crave and beg for.

Orlant struggles to pull off the trousers against Laurent's movement, but eventually he wrestles them down, and Laurent's gorgeous cock springs free, hard and bobbing in the air for attention. Orlant closes his eyes momentarily because there is nothing he wants more than put his mouth on it. The loyal part of him is stung by their Prince's words and it holds him back. He shifts his weight so they press down on Laurent's feet, preventing him from kicking them away. The Prince's legs are long, and pale, muscular from years of riding. Orlant cannot stop touching them.

They are at an impasse. The men wait, never daring to take that extra step, but unable to stop from roaming their hands over the naked body of their Prince, who writhes on the bed, still flushed and nubile, like a dream.

Laurent is enraged that his guards would take such liberties at his weakest moment and touch him. But his body sings for the attention, and wants more. He wants them to touch his cock, and suck him, and give him release. These are the men who swore to protect him.

They would do it if he orders them to.

Orlant begins to kiss his feet, his stubble causing Laurent to shiver. He moves up to give the same affection to his ankles, and then his calves. Laurent can’t find the words to tell him to keep advancing upwards.

Huet is laying the same gentle worship on Laurent's neck, which is beyond sensitive. Laurent squirms and tries to pull away, but Jord keeps his chest down, his fingers still insistently rubbing against his puckered nipples, kneading and teasing and driving him insane.

Laurent whimpers. The feeling is overwhelming, and he cannot think past them touching him. He wants it. He doesn’t. He can’t tell anymore. The drug has taken over his thoughts until all that is left is a resounding hope that they would place their mouth on his cock.

Orlant seems to understand his trembling. He obeys, his mouth drawn to the Prince's cock like it is a beacon. He leaps over the final barricade of doubt and takes the Prince into his mouth.

Laurent bucks his hips and almost weeps at the sensation of the mouth on his cock, sucking him like life depended on it. Nothing else matters but that warm wet mouth, the tongue that strokes the underside of his cock. All he can do is lay there as his guards play with his body, and he hopes they will never stop.

His release comes soon, and spills into Orlant's mouth, feeling him swallow, and then pull away, a triumphant look upon his face as he licks away the final remnants of Laurent's seed. Laurent collapses back onto the bed, his heart pounding. He hopes it will be over.

It isn’t.

The drug is surging through him, and his cock stirs back to wakefulness. Only a taste, and now his body is eager for more.

"It seems like you want more, your highness," Huet notes. He is palming himself, enjoying the view. There was no sight more arousing than seeing the Prince fuck himself into Orlant's mouth. He wants a turn, and it seems luck is on his side.

Laurent is burning up. Brought over the edge once, he thought the yearning for pleasure, the need to be fucked to every inch of his body, would subside. But after the first climax his body is primed, ready and eager for what is to come. He doesn’t feel complete, doesn’t feel satisfied by just a mouth anymore. He wants more.

Jord takes up the mantle, wrapping his hand around Laurent's cock, stroking it. His thumb swipes over the head of his cock, still wet from Orlant's mouth. Laurent whimpers at the touch—the callouses on Jord’s sword hand elicit pain and pleasure on his overly sensitive cock, that’s still rock hard.

Orlant is sitting back now, having pulled out his own cock and stroking it helplessly. He can still taste the Prince is his mouth, and watching Jord handle him now is truly a sight. He wonders how many times the Prince will need release, how long they can assist him until he is finally wrung out, completely spent. He knows this drug, and he knows that the Prince must be longing for something more than just someone sucking his cock. He needs someone to fuck him, to reach the deepest part of him, and bring pleasure both inside and out before the drug would subside.

Huet steps away and returns with a lamp that carries a dish of oil. They have gone too far now, they can only hope the Prince will understand that his beauty has no parallel, and that temptation is stronger than duty, and they are weak. Perhaps if they pleasure their Prince well enough, they might be able to beg for his forgiveness.

Laurent sees Huet approach and flinches away. "You will not dare," he gasps, trying to focus, but failing as Jord continues stroking, alternating between a soft touch and gripping tightly, his other hand fondling the soft skin of his balls. He thrashes when Huet reaches him, but Orlant holds him still, rearranging his legs until Huet kneels between them, his most intimate area completely exposed.

Huet undoes the laces to draw himself out, dips his fingers into the oil, and prepares himself. "This will only be uncomfortable for a moment, Your Highness. You want this." He pushes a single finger inside, the oil easing the way even as Laurent struggles and tightens reflexively against the intrusion. Huet finger presses deeper, feeling around, he needs to give their Prince this. He crooks his finger and Laurent jerks, a moan ripping from his throat.

Laurent is stunned by the shock of pleasure that surged through him, the burning from Huet's finger entering him subsided by the sheer pleasure that blinded everything else. He gasps, and bucks his body down, chasing that feeling. Huet obeys, pressed against the spot, rubbing it insistently. He slides his finger in and out, until Laurent’s body grew used to the intrusion, and then he uses more oil and adds a second finger.

The additional stretch tinges with pain, but the onslaught of pleasure that comes afterwards is enough to make Laurent want more. He pushes his hips to get those fingers deeper, and bucks up into Jord's hands, still fondling his cock. He’s grown used to the feeling of Huet entering him, stretching him, and he wants more. Fingers aren’t enough to satisfy him, not anymore, and Laurent wonders at the pleasure that could be attained with something bigger. The drug is drumming in his veins, pushing him to finally let out a broken moan, "More."

Huet obeys, adding a third finger. Laurent tightens against the larger intrusion, but his body is yearning for it. He only feels himself grow harder. Jord grunts, smearing pre-come with his thumb all over the head of Laurent’s cock. Jord's voice is rough with desire, as he marvels, "You want this. You want us."

Laurent doesn’t answer. He can’t. He is whimpering as Huet's fingers tease and circle his rim, and then rub relentlessly.

Jord continues. "You want more, my Prince. We can give it to you. Something bigger. We can fill you."

"Yes," Laurent moans, but he doesn’t know what he was saying anymore. He can’t think. He can’t imagine the shame of letting them touch him, but they already are. They are violating him in every way, touching him at his weakest. Yet he is craving their touch. He would weep if they left him now, hard and aching, and painfully empty.

Orlant joins in, his hand caressing Laurent's face, his neck, trailing down his chest. "Tell us you want us. That you want us to fuck you."

Laurent gives in to the drug, and lets it take over. He can’t think beyond the heat running through his veins, Orlant's wandering hands, his aching cock stroked by Jord, his hole being entered Huet. He needs more. His body will not rest until he is fucked to completion, and his men are here to serve. "Yes," he sobs. "Fuck me, fill me."

They trade looks, beyond aroused, but stunned. Never had they thought that their ice cold Prince would be reduced to this. Begging for their cocks like a pet, flushed all over, his hair messed up, tears in his eyes, fucking himself into their hands. 

Jord reaches for the oil, because there is no reality in which he would not be first. He has guarded and protected Laurent since the inception of the Guard, and there is no other who is more devoted to the Prince's every need. He locks eyes with Huet, and dares him to object. Wisely, he doesn’t.

They switch places, with Huet lowering his head to mouth at Laurent’s cock. Jord draws his cock out from his trousers. He has been achingly hard the entire time. He presses a reverent kiss to Laurent's thigh before he presses forward. The initial push of something larger than Huet's fingers has Laurent crying out loud, and Jord groans, feeling his Prince's hole flutter around his cock, squeezing it tightly. When the head of his cock pushes past the rim, he enters slowly, careful not to rush and hurt the Prince more than he needs to. Huet's preparation was thorough, and his cock slides in. The tight heat is too much, and Jord almost comes right then.

Laurent's face is flushed, his eyes screwed shut from the entrance of something so large. He hasn’t been fucked in so long, he feels beyond full, and Huet is still sucking on his cock like his life depends on it.

Orlant grunts, squeezing his cock at the base before he spills himself at the sight of Jord with his cock inside the Prince. A sight he thought he'd never see. They have the Prince beneath them, legs splayed out, open and wet, thrusting with his hips to chase Huet’s mouth. He’s no longer fighting them, the drug has made him pliable and soft, hungry and eager for their cocks.

"Hurry up," he urges Jord.

Jord is patient. He waits until he is sure Laurent is adjusted to his girth before he draws his hips back and begins fucking him, hard. He changes the angle until Laurent cries out, and then continues aiming right there, pounding away, every thrust aiming for that spot. Laurent shouts as he comes a second time in Huet's mouth. He clenches tightly as he spills, and the squeeze caused Jord to finish too, spilling deep into the Prince, and then he pulls out, breathing deep. He can see his come leaking out from the Prince’s hole, pink and glistening. Somehow, he feels himself getting aroused yet again.

Laurent is breathing harshly as he comes down from the high. To his horror, the heat swirling in his body still does not subside. He can feel his head clearing up, but his body still feels primed, he still needs more release. His cock is slowly growing hard again, and Laurent whimpers. His cock feels sensitive and raw and he can’t take it anymore. "Please, no," he musters a quiet order when it looks as though Huet is reaching for him again. Huet guiltily steps away, reaching for the oil instead.

Orlant is prepared already though, and he pushes in with ease, semen and oil easing the way. His cock is shorter but thicker, and it stretches Laurent’s hole more than before. Laurent keens out noises of pleasure at feeling full again. He can hear the lewd slapping of their bodies together, and his face burns at moaning like a wrung-out slut in a whorehouse. He curses the drug again when Orlant pulls out completely before thrusting back in. His thoughts are not his own. His hole is flexing, crying at the emptiness. He wants to be filled and plugged up with come. He can’t bear being empty.

Jord has moved to worship at his nipples again, playing and teasing with his mouth. Orlant comes not too long after, pulling out as he spills, painting the Prince’s hole with his spend. The Prince had been tighter than any tavern boy he’d had before, but he moaned and squeezed his cock just as pretty.

"Move," Huet says to Orlant, pushing the man aside, who collapses away easily. He takes up the spot, but then Huet realizes he wants to try something new. Being able to see the Prince's every expression as they fuck him is unworldly, but there is nothing Huet likes more than staring at the Prince's pert ass in those tight trousers. He would never have this chance again, and he is going to grab that with his hands if it is the last thing he’ll ever.

He has Jord help him turn the Prince around so he is on his elbows and knees. The drug has made Laurent pliant, and he moans at the movement and stays in position, with his ass presented high, and his back curved. Huet swallows hard. The Prince’s ass is beautiful and round, and his to hold.

He is holding those round cheeks in his hands, kneading them, groaning when he finds them even firmer than he imagined. Unable to help himself, he slaps them a few times consecutively, growing harder as Laurent cries out, leaning forward on his elbows even more, trying to get away but just arching his back and presenting on display. His pale skin betrays him, turning a pretty shade of pink. Huet knows if he continues, the Prince would bear his handprints upon his bottom, and what a sight that would be. But his desire is curbed by a glare from Jord, and he decides to continue before the drug wears off. He wants to spank the Prince for every bitchy remark he has ever made, so that every time he even looks at Huet his ass tingles—but he wants to fuck the Prince more.

He spreads the cheeks and whistles at the sight of the Prince's hole already red and puffy, Jord and Orlant's seed spilling out from inside. He needs to add his to the mix. He lines up his cock, and pushes in. There is no resistance at all. Laurent is loose and warm and ready. They've fucked him, leaving him stretched out. Cold-blooded virgin no more, Huet muses. Never has he taken so much cock before. Not everyone's first time is coming multiple times and serviced by three men at his beck and call. Truly their Prince indeed.

Orlant, still lying on the bed, shifts until he is beneath Laurent on all fours, and leans up until he can take the Prince’s cock into his mouth. Laurent moans, still sensitive, but ready for more. He thrusts his cock deeper into that warm wet mouth.

Laurent keens when a particularly deep thrust pushes him into Orlant's mouth. He almost weeps at the pleasure wracking through his body. He is so sensitive, and yet he feels like he could still keep going forever. Could his body even be pushed to this limit? A rough hand caresses his face, wiping away his tears, and Laurent looks up to see Jord, still fully clothed except for his cock hanging out. It was hard again.

Jord is speaking to him, "Your Highness. Look at how hard you are still. We have tried to give you all that we can, but there is still one thing. One hole left to fill."

Jord presses his cock to Laurent's lips, and Laurent would have--should have been disgusted. But the drug is still in him, and he wonders if that's how the slaves in Akielos serve their masters, because his mouth almost waters at the idea, and slowly, he opens it.

Jord groans as the Prince's lips wrap around his cock. The same mouth that he has always fantasized about when he stood guard and watched the Prince strike down his opponents in court using just wit and words. That mouth is now sucking him. He couldn't resist the small thrusts, pushing further until his cock is hitting the back of the Prince's throat. The Prince’s mouth is filled by his cock, drool spilling out from his mouth, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He was so beautiful.

Laurent can no longer think. He is finally full, all he can feel is pleasure, of being worshipped, and touched. His hole is dripping with come, and yet Huet continues to pound away at the spot that makes him whimper. Huet’s hands keep his cheeks spread and Laurent knows they can all see the cock sliding in and out of his stretched hole. Huet’s grip was so tight, he would leave bruises on his skin, imprints of fingers holding his ass, his hips. Orlant is beneath him, sucking like a sordid pet, and Jord cock stretches lips wide, thrusting into his mouth like it is nothing more than another hole to fill. 

He doesn’t think he can come again, not after already spilling twice, but Jord and Huet both slam into him at the same time, and the surmounting pleasure is too much, sending Laurent lurching over the edge, and finally, finally down from the high. Laurent pulls away from Jord as he spills as well, and the come explodes over Laurent's face, landing on his lashes, his lips. Laurent collapses onto the bed, completely spent. The drug has finally worn off. 

Orlant had rolled away just in time, and he sits up on the bed, stunned, staring down at their prince, unsure of what to do now. Huet gets up, his cock still hard, so close to release. He moves to the corner of the room where he makes quick use of his hands and spills into the towels. Gathering a few clean towels, he begins methodically cleaning the prince, wiping away their seed and sweat.

Jord sweeps the sweat-stained hair away from Laurent's eyes which were beginning to flutter close. "The drug is gone now, Your Highness. Rest,” he says. Whatever is to happen now won’t come until morning. “We'll retrieve your slave. He belongs to you, just as we do." 

In a few hours, Laurent would wake and appeal to the council for a slave's life. His guard would have brought the slave back alive, and they would be dressed proper, wearing their Prince's starburst blue. Laurent would be freshly dressed, holding himself just as severely as usual at court. There would be no sign of the drug and the slave would gaze at him incredulously, having overcome the drug by what appeared to be sheer willpower. 

He would still turn to his guards for there was no one else on his side. Without them, he had no chance against his uncle. The night would have been a feverish dream, everything wiped clean, except for the bruises and a deep lingering ache.   



End file.
